


Silent Love

by Catsarecutebutaliens



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aromantic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aromantic Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale loves Crowley so much, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Neck Kissing, No Spoilers, Platonic Cuddling, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Relationships, Rain, soft, they are both aroace because I'm aroace and I said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19257583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsarecutebutaliens/pseuds/Catsarecutebutaliens
Summary: The time they spend together is more than they ever hoped for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by/written while listening to:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTnm7-oiA7s
> 
> I also recommend some rain sounds to set the mood. Enjoy.

Crowley loved Aziraphale's body, undoubtedly a lot more than his own. He had chosen it years ago, formed it to be practical but androgynous, though he had missed the mark by a bit. Human concepts were confusing to him, always have been and probably always will be. That didn't make him admire them any less, much to his own dismay sometimes.

So while he knew the flaws of his corporate being and decided to fix them every now and then, just out of boredom, really, and maybe a little bit of pride, Aziraphale's body was quite honestly beauty and perfection incorporated (pun intended, as much as Crowley disliked those as well).

On rainy days like this one, with the sky dark and grey, the wind howling around the corners of the shop, thunder and lightning appearing every once and then and two mugs of warm tea in front of them while they talked on the sofa for hours, his hands found their way to Aziraphale without a single conscious thought by Crowley.

At first, they rested on his knee, stroking the fabric from time to time with slow, languid movements. The angel's heat was radiating off him with such strength the closeness warmed not only his hands but his whole boy and soon he was leaning against him, hands wandering up and down his legs with the sole purpose to touch and feel. To anyone else, this may have appeared inappropriate or over-the-top, and it had been for them in the beginning, but now it was no more surprising than another day with each other.

Heavy drops of rain mused in the background of Aziraphale's voice, who was reading poems and books and telling stories so old no one had ever written them down. Crowley disliked his own voice, disliked how it had been formed by years and years of hellish yelling and words so full of love they burned his throat. But Aziraphale's, he sounded the way heaven was supposed to be, and when they slowly slid down until they were lying on the couch with their legs intertwined and Crowley's face buried in his neck, it continued to vibrate in both their chests and only stopped once a cold but slowly warming hand eventually settled on angelic skin just above where the fabric of his trousers ended.

The first time this happened, it vanished just as quickly as it appeared and left his skin tingling and burning with something so intimate even Aziraphale never managed to put it into one of his many beloved words.

On this day, many, many times after the first memorable evening, Aziraphale went quiet to smile and press his nose into Crowley's demonically good smelling hair and took a deep, slow breath, while the fated hand stroked the soft skin of his abdomen. The smell of sulfur and fire had dissipated a long time ago, now there was cinnamon, the smell of his plants and dirt, bitter tea and books. Always books.  
They smelled like earth.

Touch was never too much those times, they were always starved for it, for soft words and gestures and affection they had never gotten but from each other. They soaked it in, more and more until everyone else would have been full but they continued to give and take without ever spilling over or drying out.  
Crowley's fingers danced over soft, chubby skin and pressed into it from time to time to hear a quiet squeak leave Aziraphale's lips between his words. Not that he minded, this was what he had been searching for all this time.

A few heartbeats of thinking and eventually Aziraphale would bury a hand in Crowley's hair to draw him even closer and whisper about love and confessions to his demon, who slid his hands upwards until he could press his fingers against Aziraphale's ribs and chest; the softest part of his angel, maybe, right after his hair and, on some occasions, his lips.

Maybe it was a miracle, whether blessed or damned decidedly did not matter, the rain continued for hours, never once ceasing or clearing, keeping them caught in the bubble they had created. It wasn't for the first time that Crowley kissed Aziraphale that evening, but it felt like the first kiss nevertheless and they lost themselves in the sensations, Crowley's hand still resting on his chest, hidden beneath clothes and his own body.

Of course, while their bodies looked human and functioned like them most of the time, they didn't need to breathe. They did, it was a habit after all those centuries, but for times like this, they stayed pressed against each other for a long time, feeling their heartbeats quicken at first and then die down again as familiarity took them over. Colors bled away and their worlds swam into each other, visions growing darker and lighter with their thoughts.

Crowley was the first to move and for the next minutes, he pressed his lips in butterfly light kisses against his angel's neck again and again until his mind calmed down and he did what he loved the second most in the world: sleep with Aziraphale by his side. A true guardian angel.

Indulging in humanity's pleasures, the angel allowed himself to drift beside him, carried by two heartbeats and the rain. Their dreams met like they always did and when they woke up from hours spent together in fantasy and love, it was like no time had passed at all. Only the heat in their teacups had vanished.

Maybe things would change some distant day and if they did, their memories would fade with time but always be bound to the souls they inevitably shared.


	2. Tranquility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't all too long, but I have been thinking about adding some small ficlets to this and so it happened. Enjoy!

There was a calm quiet to their presence, undecided between drifting off and spending the moment with each other.

Crowley has seen many sunrises and even more sunsets throughout his time on earth, but somehow the ones he shared with Aziraphale always seemed eternally more beautiful than any before.  
Black growing into blue, and purple, and finally gold when the first rays set the red and brown autumn leaves aflame.  
Winter was coming, slowly and deadly, but still necessary. He never minded the cold temperatures, the rain, the dying of life around him, because the rebirth of spring was right around the corner. Not that he would ever admit to his liking of it.

And here, content in the moment, with Aziraphale's arms gently wrapped around him, he allowed his thoughts to drift off to his own fall and rebirth, which seemed to be ongoing, never-ending. Six thousand years full of pain and healing and he still managed to end up here, watching the stars slowly disappear from the sky, the frost-covered leaves warming beneath the early morning sun.

Crowley shifted back into the body behind him, turning his head to look at his angel, who smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His lips felt familiar to his face by now, seemingly always touching his cheeks or nose or, every now and then, his lips. Casual acts of affection meant to show a love too significant and all-encompassing to be put into words.

With his jacket long but discarded, Crowley wiggled his body into the space between Aziraphale's body and the back of the sofa, which had magically grown large enough to support both of them, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's neck in return. He hummed in contentment and pulled Crowley even closer, who was now slowly trailing his left hand over the side of Aziraphale's neck, knowing exactly where to find his weak spot.

The angel sighed and shuffled downwards to press his face into Crowley's chest. With their roles reversed and the sunrise completely forgotten, Crowley rested his chin on soft, blonde locks and combed his fingers through them in slow, comforting motions, his nails occasionally scraping against his scalp.

Maybe they would stay like this for a while, long enough for the sun to continue its journey over the sky. Not for a day, no, but for a few hours, long enough for both of them to doze off, safe and warm with the other.

They had time, after all, and after six-thousand years of running, they could finally stay still for a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I was struck by inspiration and this is the outcome, I hope you liked it.  
> Do you want more of this kinda thing in the future? If you have any ideas or wishes, please leave them in the comments <3


End file.
